


I could be good to you

by Ellana17



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dragonstone, F/M, Sanrion reunion, Season 7 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellana17/pseuds/Ellana17
Summary: Ser Davos offered Sansa his hand and helped her out of the rowboat carefully.Sansa slowly walked to Lord Tyrion as he came to her, and they met halfway. Sansa could feel the tension in the men accompanying her as they saw the foreigners flanking Tyrion.Or: Sansa goes to Dragonstone instead of Jon





	I could be good to you

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote from A Storm of Swords and I’m in love with it.

Sansa had not expected Jon to confront her so soon after their disagreement in the Great Hall.

“You were right,” he said as soon as he walked into Sansa’s chambers. He sighed. “I can’t leave the North but I know that an alliance with Daenerys Targaryen is essential.”

“You can’t be in two places at once,” Sansa stated.

“I know. This is why I’m sending an emissary to Dragonstone while I remain here, in the North,” Jon informed her.

Sansa gaped at him. “But you were right before!” she exclaimed. “Only a king could convince her. Who would you send in your place?”

“Someone I trust,” Jon stated. “Someone I know will put the interests of the people before their own.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think such a person exists in Westeros. The last ones have been murdered by the Lannisters.”

“You, Sansa,” Jon informed her.

Sansa froze. “Me? Why me?”

Jon smiled at her softly. “Because there’s no one I trust more than you to do this. Sansa,” he said, taking her hand into his owns, “you know more about politics in the Seven Kingdoms than anyone else here. You’ve lived with Cersei for years. And more important, you know Tyrion.”

“You’re insane,” Sansa said, glaring at her brother. “Why would Daenerys Targaryen listen to anything I have to say?”

“It took me some time to understand it but you are an invaluable advisor. I’m sure even Daenerys Targaryen will see that in time.”

Sansa sighed. “You’ll have to support any decision I make in your name,” she finally said. “Otherwise this would have all been for nothing.”

“Of course,” Jon nodded solemnly. “I’ll send our best guards with you, make sure you are safe.”

“Don’t,” she countered. “This would send the wrong message. Besides, I trust Tyrion. He never hurt me before, I don’t think he’ll start now.”

The boat ride to Dragonstone had been excruciating. Sansa had nothing else to do but rehearse what she would tell the Dragon Queen once they meet. Sansa was not a faint of heart – not after everything she’s been through. Yet, if what they had heard about the queen was even remotely true, the woman could inspire fear into the heart of even the most fearless warriors.

 

The sound of the waves crashing ashore combined with the strong wind was deafening. Ser Davos offered Sansa his hand and helped her out of the rowboat carefully.

Sansa slowly walked to Lord Tyrion as he came to her, and they met halfway. Sansa could feel the tension in the men accompanying her as they saw the foreigners flanking Tyrion.

Tyrion, Sansa noticed, managed a weak smile in her direction. Neither one of them said a word as they studied the other warily. Tyrion had changed since they had last seen each other. The man looked gruffer than before and – Sansa could not believe this was even possible – he also seemed wiser. She could only imagine what had happened to him during his exile. How far their life in King’s Landing seemed now as they faced each other on the beach of Dragonstone.

“I am glad you’re alive,” Sansa finally said, surprised by her own sincerity.

Tyrion’s eyes widened in surprise before the man composed himself. “Well, I’m glad I’m alive as well,” he joked.

Neither of them moved, studying each other some more. Sansa barely noticed the woman accompanying Tyrion rolling her eyes.

“You look well,” Tyrion added.

Sansa nodded absentmindedly.

“Ser Davos Seaworth,” the man cut in, extending a hand for Tyrion to shake.

The man’s boldness had at least the advantage of cutting short the awkward situation. Tyrion regained his usual poise and shook Ser Davos’ hand.

“Welcome to Dragonstone.”

 

Meeting Daenerys Targaryen had been just as nerve wracking as Sansa had thought. The woman was stubborn and did not trust people easily. Not that Sansa could blame her. She had been expecting it, really.

The Dragon Queen was taking her time with their negotiations, which meant that Sansa found herself at a loss as to what to do during the long days spent in Dragonstone.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Tyrion asked her gently after Daenerys had left the war room. “I know there are no god woods here but nobody will bother you out there.”

Sansa nodded. “Would you accompany me, my Lord?” she asked hesitantly.

Tyrion seemed surprised by her request. “Of course,” he finally said, following her outside the room. “I’ve not been here long and I mostly keep to the library, so I’m not sure about the best walking paths.”

Sansa smiled despite herself. She remembered Tyrion spending hours inside, surrounded by books when they both were in King’s Landing. Sansa was surprised to notice that some memories about that place were less bitter than others.

“I want to see the dragons again,” Sansa admitted.

A soft smile appeared on Tyrion’s face at her words. They made their way out of the castle and up the hill.

“You know,” Tyrion said as they sat down in the grass near the cliff. “I’ve always loved dragons, especially when I was younger. I never would have thought I would see one alive, let alone three.”

“And now you’re Hand of the Queen to Daenerys Targaryen,” Sansa stated.

“Yes. Funny how life can turn out sometimes.”

Tyrion glanced at the girl whose gaze was fixed on the sky. He saw her eyes widening before he heard the sound of the dragons’ wings.

“They are gorgeous,” Sansa whispered, amazed, as the dragons crossed the sky. “I never would have thought seeing them in person.”

“Few people in our days and age have seen a living dragon.”

“It is odd,” Sansa reflected out loud, “to think that at the time this castle was built, dragons were still were roaming the Earth. The Targaryens had built a dynasty and now… there’s nothing left of them except an old uninhabited castle.”

“It is inhabited now,” Tyrion underlined in a gentle tone. “However, it is the end met by powerful families. With nobody to carry on the family name, the family name dies.”

“The Targaryens, the Baratheons, even the Tyrells,” Sansa listed mournfully. “The Starks.” Tyrion glanced at her. “Rickon died at the hands of Ramsay Bolton,” Sansa added. “Nobody has seen Bran in years. Nor Arya.”

“You are still alive,” Tyrion reminded her.

“Me? I can’t pass down the family name,” she scoffed.

“But your parents are still alive inside you.”

“And when I die, they’ll die a second time.”

“Your children-”

Sansa laughed bitterly. “Sometimes I fear I’ll be the last Stark standing in Winterfell.”

“Even if this comes to pass, you are not to blame for the fall of your family. The fault lies with your enemies. With Joffrey. With Walder Frey. With the Boltons.”

Sansa nodded weakly. “I used to think I would feel better once my family had been avenged.”

“I gather you don’t anymore,” Tyrion guessed.

Sansa shook her head. “Even Joffrey’s death brought more trouble than it was worth,” she said, looking at Tyrion. The man frowned. “I know you didn’t kill him, no matter what everybody in King’s Landing says.”

“How can you be so sure?” Tyrion asked her quietly.

“I never believed it. I know you wouldn’t have even after everything he put you through. I-” She stopped.

“You know who did it, don’t you?” Tyrion realized suddenly.

Sansa nodded slowly. “It was Littlefinger,” she said at last. “He planned the whole thing and managed to smuggle me out of King’s Landing. I had no idea what he was planning,” she added vehemently.

“I believe you, my Lady. I did not think for a moment you had a part in this. Although your sudden disappearance looked rather suspicious. They tried to make it look like I had killed Joffrey for your.”

Sansa gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“This was not your fault, Sansa. My sister had been looking for a reason to get me killed for many years. There was nothing to be done.”

“If I had known what Baelish was planning I would have… I would have asked him to take you with us.”

Tyrion smiled. “You are too kind, my Lady,” he said, patting her hand gently.

The dragons shrieked, startling Sansa whose gaze went to the sky.

“The library is full of scrolls about the Targaryen family and their dragons, if you ever feel the need to learn more about them. I’d be happy to show you to it myself.”

“This is very kind of you, Tyrion.”

 

Tyrion had been caught between two fires since the start of these negotiations. Daenerys knew of his past with the Stark family, she knew of his fondness for Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell and she knew about his arranged marriage with Sansa Stark. The matter had been discussed at length during their private meetings. Daenerys was insistent on the fact that Tyrion was in love with his wife.

“I didn’t say anything about love,” he told her as the two friends shared a bottle of wine in Daenerys’s private chambers.

“You didn’t but it’s obvious from the way you talk about her – as if she was precious to you, as if you wanted to protect her.”

Tyrion snorted. “She doesn’t need my help. She doesn’t want it and it would be foolish of me to think that I could protect her.”

“She might not need your help but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want it,” Daenerys pointed out sagely. She gave him a knowing look and in that moment she seemed way too sober for his liking. He filled her cup again.

“Even if I did love her, it would be a cruel fate to share the name of a man whose father’s responsible for the death of your whole family.”

“You’re not to blame for your father’s actions,” Daenerys told him quietly. “You know,” she added after a bit. “I know a thing or two about arranged marriage myself. My own brother sold me to Khal Drogo in exchange for an army to take back the Seven Kingdoms. It was hard at first, I didn’t even spoke the language. But I did love him, sometimes I think I won’t ever be able to love a man like I did him ever again.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyrion said.

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me,” Daenerys countered. “I’m telling you this because– I don’t really now why I’m telling you this,” she said, looking at the empty cup in her hands. “This wine might be a little too much for me after all.”

“Nonsense, you simply need to keep drinking.”

 

Tyrion had thought joining Daenerys meant turning on a new leaf and forgetting about his former allegiance to his house and his family but every conversation seemed to be about the Lannisters these days. Sansa had brought with her a wave of memories he had been trying to forget. However, as they sat together, sharing a bottle of wine, Tyrion realized that he would not have traded the woman’s presence in Dragonstone for anything in the world.

“My father would have built a dynasty to last a thousand years,” Tyrion said tiredly. “The family name was all that mattered to him. He had planned to marry Cersei to the king. He had hoped my brother would inherit Casterly Rock but Jaime chose the King’s Guard instead. My father never gave up the idea of seeing my brother finally marry and pass on the family name.”

“Your father never wanted you to inherit Casterly Rock,” Sansa realized.

Tyrion huffed a laugh. “All his children have been a disappointment until the very end.”

Sansa took his hands in hers, making Tyrion stare at her in surprise. “Look how far you’ve come,” she told him earnestly. “Your father never saw you for what you really are,” she added. Sansa lifted her hand as she talked, mapping Tyrion’s face with her fingers, lingering on his scar. The wine was making her bold. “You saved us,” she whispered. She felt Tyrion angle his face toward her hand. “You fought to protect King’s Landing while Joffrey was hiding away in the castle and Cersei was drinking herself to death. Don’t think I have forgotten that.”

“Sansa…” Tyrion trailed off, surprised. “Thank you. I know things would have turned out better for you if Stannis had taken King’s Landing that night. He was a friend of your father’s. He would have spared you.”

“I’m not sure I would have lived long enough to reach him if his army had taken the city,” Sansa reflected out loud. “You took Joffrey’s place on the battlements and you gave those soldiers hope.”

“How do you know about that?” Tyrion asked.

“Pod told me, after we– He’s very loyal to you,” she told him.

“Pod,” Tyrion said, shaking his head fondly.

“He’s alive,” Sansa told him suddenly. “He’s in Winterfell with Lady Brienne.”

Tyrion’s eyes widened in surprise. “I asked my brother to get him out of the capital before my trial, I had no idea–”

“Lady Brienne is training him to be a knight. They’re the ones who recued me after I escaped… Ramsay,” she said in a quiet voice. “I…”

Tyrion covered Sansa’s hand with his own. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” Tyrion told her softly.

The girl nodded weakly. “I’ll need more wine for that,” she said, pouring herself another glass.

“You don’t have to,” Tyrion said again.

Sansa looked at him behind her glass. “I want to,” she said. “I need to. He’s been haunting my dreams for too long, I– I want it to stop.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

“Littlefinger knew about Ramsay,” Sansa stated calmly. “He knew and he made me marry that– that monster. I’d been wanting to go home for so long and when I went back I was a prisoner in my own home. Ramsay kept me to my chambers so that he could come to me anytime he wanted. He did– things to me. He beat me, he enjoyed hurting me– humiliating me. He took everything from me.”

She stopped talking, trying to catch her breath. Talking about it made her feel like she was back in Winterfell, trapped, waiting, dreading the moment Ramsay would come back.

“You’re safe now,” Tyrion tried to reassure her, seeing her shaking.

“Nobody’s safe,” she told him simply. “He wants the Iron Throne– Littlefinger.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“You don’t understand, he told me what he wants. He wants the Iron Throne and would do anything to get it.”

Tyrion stared at her in disbelief. “He told you that? Why? Why would he reveal is plan to anyone? That doesn’t seem like him.”

Sansa’s words died in her throat.

“What is it, Sansa?” Tyrion asked, noticing her discomfort.

“He said he wanted to sit on the Iron Throne with me by his side,” she stated. The words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“I see,” Tyrion said. “Men have been known to be reckless when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“This man doesn’t have a heart,” Sansa stated harshly. “He only cares about himself. He killed my aunt in cold blood – threw her through the Moon Door.” Tyrion shuddered at the mere thought of the pit bellow the Eyrie. “She killed Jon Arryn, you know.”

“Your aunt killed her husband?”

Sansa nodded weakly. “She killed her own husband and accused the Lannisters because Littlefinger told her to. He’s the most dangerous man in all the Seven Kingdoms.” She glanced at Tyrion. “You don’t believe me,” she said, defeated.

“Of course I believe you,” Tyrion said, patting her hand gently.

 

Tyrion had made good on his promise to teach Sansa more about the Targaryen family and their dragons. The two of them often found themselves in the library these days as the weather outside the castle kept getting worse.

Sansa felt her throat close up and looked away from the Targaryen family tree. “I’ve already been married against my will twice in so many years,” she told him quietly. “Why does my name deprive me of the right to chose for myself?” she asked bitterly. She glanced at Tyrion and froze suddenly. “I’m sorry. I know you never asked for any of this.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“I have no claim to the North because I am a woman,” she went on. “My son could inherit Winterfell and that makes me a good match for anyone with enough money to–” she groaned.

“I can’t imagine how frustrating this must be for you,” Tyrion told her gently.

“I don’t want the North,” she explained. “I just want to be able to make my own decisions. Is that too much to ask?”

Tyrion smiled bitterly. “In this world? I’m afraid it is too much to ask.”

“I know you didn’t want to marry me,” Sansa suddenly said. “I know you didn’t ask for it. Your father wanted to take control of the North through me, through our potential children,” she trailed off.

“My father had always wanted to control me,” Tyrion acknowledged. “He hated me and would have wanted me dead but I was his son and he couldn’t change that. The only way I could have redeemed myself would have been to marry the woman he chose for me.”

Sansa dried the tears rolling down her cheeks. “How do you– Why did he hate you?” she asked hesitantly.

“My first action in this world was to kill my own mother,” Tyrion stated plainly. “My father never forgave me.

“The death of your mother was not your fault!” Sansa exclaimed.

Tyrion smiled tiredly. “My father lost his wife to a dwarf child,” he said. “He wished me dead, he told me himself,” Tyrion admitted. Sansa covered her mouth with her hands in horror. “I killed my father,” Tyrion told her finally.

“I know,” Sansa said under her breath. “I heard of his death.”

“What kind of monster kills his own father?”

“You are not a monster,” Sansa told him vehemently. “Believe me, I’ve seen monsters.”

Tyrion smiled weakly at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Sansa.”

“What do you mean?”

Tyrion closed his eyes. “One of the reasons my father wanted me to marry someone of his choosing was because of my many… acquaintances amongst brothel employees. The only women that ever graced me with their company were the ones I paid.” Sansa nodded. That was not news to her. “I’ve met Shea long before she arrived in King’s Landing.”

Sansa frowned. “Shea? What does she have to do with–”

“She was mine,” Tyrion said in a hoarse voice. “Or at least I thought she was. She told me she was.” Tyrion snorted. “For all the time I have spent with whores I still thought Shea truly loved me for myself and not for the gold I kept giving her. I should have known better.” Tyrion took a deep breath. “When my brother helped me escape, I went to my father’s chambers to get answers. The only answer I got was finding Shea in my father’s bed.” Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise. “She tried to kill me. I killed her first,” he related. “Then I killed my father.” Sansa’s next words caught in her throat. Tyrion averted his gaze and looked down at his hands. “So you see, I am a monster after all,” he told her quietly.

Sansa grabbed Tyrion’s hands and lifted them to her lips, kissing them gently. “You aren’t,” she told him. “You aren’t.”

Tyrion smiled. They stared at each other in complete silence.

“Do you think Daenerys will accept the deal?” Sansa asked after a moment.

“I hope she will,” Tyrion answered trustfully.

Sansa glanced at him. “I do too,” she said softly.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted the quiet moment. Missandei appeared in the room.

“Forgive me,” the woman said. “Lord Hand, Lady Sansa, the Queen requires your presence in the throne room.”

Tyrion stood up and offered Sansa his hand. “Come, my Lady. The Queen doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

Sansa’s mission was done. She had finally convinced Daenerys to join forces. She could not believe it. However, Sansa could not help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving Dragonstone – and Tyrion. Sansa had grown accustomed to their time together and dreaded the moment she would have to return home. She kept wondering if Tyrion would miss her.

Tyrion walked her back to her chambers after their walk had been cut short by the rain.

“Won’t you come inside?” Sansa asked, glancing back at the man. “You need to get warm or you’ll catch your death.” Tyrion still seemed hesitant to enter the room, lingering in the doorstep. “The Queen needs a healthy Hand by her side,” Sansa added.

Tyrion sighed. “Only for a moment, then,” he finally conceded.

Tyrion followed Sansa inside her chambers. The woman discarded her wet cloak on a chair and elected to sit down on the thick carpet in front of the fire. She glanced back at Tyrion who stood frozen in the middle of the room.

“It’s warmer over here,” she told him simply.

The man finally seemed to fully accept the invitation and sat down next to her. In moments like this one, Sansa came to doubt Tyrion’s affection towards her. After all, Sansa could have simply been imagining his attraction; she had no proof of it. The man had never been less than a perfect gentleman with her.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she told him.

“Sansa, I can’t find the words to say how invaluable your help has been during the past weeks,” Tyrion told her wholeheartedly. “The Queen trusts you, which is the best compliment she could ever give you.”

“Thank you for telling me this. Daenerys is not the most forthcoming of person,” she noted, which made Tyrion chuckle. “But I understand why and I’m glad to know that there is still some kind-hearted person in Westeros.”

“And you are one of them, my Lady,” Tyrion told her softly. “The Queen would benefit from someone as yourself by her side, advising her. After all, you know more about Westeros than she does. You would be of great help to her if you decided to stay.”

Sansa stared at him in disbelief. “Do you mean–”

“Daenerys wanted me to ask you about joining her Small Council.”

“I’m– I’m really flattered. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Tyrion told her. “The Queen will understand if you wished to go back home to Winterfell.”

“No, I– Of course I love Winterfell but I’d be of more use here with you,” Sansa said. “I’d like very much to stay.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Tyrion smiled. “I know I will appreciate your counsel just as much as the Queen will.”

“For what it’s worth,” Sansa started, glancing at the man, “I think the Queen made the right choice by naming you her Hand,” Sansa told him softly. “Before I give my answer to the Queen, I need to ask you something,” Sansa added hesitantly.

“What is it?” Tyrion asked suddenly worried.

“Do you have any other reason for wanting me to stay?” Sansa asked boldly.

“Sansa I–”

“If you don’t feel anything for me, I’ll never speak of my feelings again but I need to know, please. Whatever you say, I will remain by the Queen’s side, your answer won’t change anything about my allegiance to her.”

“I have more reasons for wanting you to stay than you can possibly imagine,” Tyrion finally admitted quietly. “But we can’t do this.”

“Don’t you think we deserve to be happy?” she asked him sincerely, looking at him in the eyes.

Tyrion gave her a soft smile before leaning in and brushing his lips against her cheek. Sansa’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Tyrion’s soft lips then travelled to both her eyelids and her temples before finally stopping near her lips. Sansa drew a breath and opened her eyes.

“My dear Sansa,” he said in a hushed voice. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You course you do,” she whispered moments before their lips finally touched.

Sansa gasped as she felt Tyrion’s mouth opening, seeking passage through her parted lips. Her hands grasped Tyrion’s shoulder, feeling the wet fabric under her fingers before travelling across his chest and settling over his heart. Sansa grasped the lapel of his jacket, bringing him even closer. Their lips parted for a brief moment before crashing back together hurriedly. The feeling of Tyrion’s tongue in her mouth made Sansa’s head spin.

Sansa felt Tyrion’s hands on her at last. The man cupped her face, gently brushing her wet hair out of her eyes.

“Lovely Sansa,” he whispered as he looked at her. “My sweet, lovely Sansa.”

As they kissed, Sansa slowly leaned back until she was lying down on the carpet. Tyrion’s mouth followed hers, angling his body until he was straddling her. Sansa was surprised to note how light the man actually was and more importantly, how safe she felt in his arms. Tyrion kissed her with passion, sending sparks all through her body but his hands remained grounded to her face. She touched his hands gently, and Tyrion’s lips immediately parted from hers.

“Please,” she whispered. “I was not ready all those years ago,” she explained softly. “But I am now. I want you. I want you to be my husband.”

“Are you sure?” Tyrion asked.

“More than anything,” Sansa nodded.

Tyrion’s hands travelled down her neck to her dress and slowly undid the strings as Sansa’s chest fell and rose more and more heretically. She helped him get rid of the heavy dress without bothering to wonder if that was appropriate behavior for a lady. The fire burning inside her body was about to consume her whole; they did not have time for formalities. When Tyrion’s hands came in contact with her breasts through her undergown, Sansa’s head fell against the carpet with a thud. She let out a strangled moan as she felt his hands slip under the fabric and touch her bare skin. The feeling was overwhelming.

“I want to see you,” she said under her breath, touching his chest.

Tyrion nodded imperceptibly. Together, they made quick work of getting rid of Tyrion’s jacket and breaches. Sansa took a moment to look at the man. In the light of the fire, his hair seemed to be made of pure gold. Her gaze travelled down his body slowly, taking him in. She reached a tentative hand and brushed her fingers against his manhood. Tyrion drew a shallow breath.

“Let me take care of you,” he finally said, tugging on Sansa’s undergown and throwing it to the side.

Tyrion trailed open-mouthed kisses along her chest, her stomach, moving down slowly to her tights. Sansa barely contained a moan as she felt his mouth between her legs. Before that moment, Sansa had no idea men could do such a thing – would be interested in doing such a thing. When she felt his tongue inside her, Sansa moaned deeply. Her hands found their way into Tyrion’s hair as his head kept moving between her tights. The fire inside her was getting more and more demanding. She needed to feel him inside her.

“Tyrion,” she whimpered. “Tyrion, please.”

“There’s something I think you might enjoy,” he told her quietly before settling his hands on her waist.

After a second of confusion, Sansa let him guide her. He lied down on his back and gently guided her until Sansa was straddling him, his manhood buried deep inside of her. She shuddered.

“I don’t know how…” she stopped. In truth, Sansa had no idea how to finish that sentence.

Tyrion’s hands never left her waist as he started moving them, guiding her, showing her how to move her hips, faster and faster until both of them were panting, gasping and moaning into each other’s mouth. Sansa bit on Tyrion’s lower lip as waves of pleasure ran through her body. She could not stop the loud moans escaping her lips anymore as she moved widely, letting pleasure dictate her speed. Her whole body arched and her head fell back as she reached her climax. She felt Tyrion tense only seconds later as he came inside her with a deep groan.

Sweaty, breathless and completely exhausted, Sansa lied down on the carpet. She felt Tyrion’s hand in her hair as the fire cast a soft glow on the room.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this I realized just how much they’d have to tell each other if they ever meet again.


End file.
